


Game Night

by BlueLineGoon



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Board Games, Boys Will Be Boys, Domestic Fluff, Family, Family Bonding, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Miscommunication, Scrabble, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:22:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23359963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueLineGoon/pseuds/BlueLineGoon
Summary: A series of vignettes, of each Dragonball family having a game night. Fluffy and light.
Relationships: Android 18/Krillin (Dragon Ball), Bulma Briefs/Vegeta, Chi-Chi/Son Goku (Dragon Ball)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 64





	1. Briefs Family

“I fail to understand how a strategy simulation of this cartoonish simplicity is of any benefit to the adult mind.”

“Vegeta, shut up and play the damn board game.” Bulma smiled and rolled her eyes.

He always attacked the intellectual merit of board games as soon as he started to lose. Vegeta crossed his arms and frowned down at the board, considering his next move. He reached rolled a handful of dice and reached to move one of his few remaining pieces.

“Oooh, bad move dad.” Trunks said warningly.

“What?” Vegeta exclaimed, pulling his hand away as if scalded. “How? Where?”

“He’s messing with you.” Bulma said, “trying to throw off your plan.”

Vegeta’s frown deepened into a scowl.

“You do…have a plan, right?” Bulma asked slowly.

Vegeta said nothing. He seized a new playing piece and shifted it, passing the dice to Trunks, who grinned.

“Hah!” Trunks laughed, “rookie mistake!”

With a flourish, Trunks rolled the dice and cleared the board of all but one of Vegeta’s pieces. Vegeta’s jaw dropped, and Bulma laughed. He slowly closed his mouth and re-crossed his arms.

The dice passed to Bulma and she claimed Vegeta’s sole remaining piece, paying for it with a half-apologetic, half-gloating peck on his cheek. He turned away, scoffing, but the softest tinge of pink rose to his cheeks. He deigned to watch Trunks and Bulma battle over the remaining pieces for a few turns before rising from his place on the ottoman and striding from the room.

“Well, he lasted longer than he usually does.” Bulma said, shrugging.

“He did a little better this time.” Trunks said, smiling.

“Honestly. The man used to command armies…” Bulma shook her head slowly.

“WOMAN!” Vegeta barked from the kitchen

“NOT MY NAME!” Bulma fired back, grinning. “And keep it down will ya? I just got Bulla down to sleep!”

Vegeta’s face appeared around through the doorway.

“Where is the colourful sucrose shrapnel stored?” Vegeta said.

“You mean sprinkles? Uh, top shelf in the third pantry.” Bulma said distractedly, her eyes on the game board.

A few seconds ticked by, then Trunks and Bulma made eye contact, worry and concern flashing between them.

“Uh…dad?” Trunks called into the kitchen, “whatcha doin?”

There was no answer, and mother and son stared at one another over the living room coffee table. From the kitchen, there was only an ominous silence.

“Should we…?” Bulma asked slowly.

Before they could rise to go investigate, Vegeta reappeared, with a towering ice cream sundae in each hand, and one braced in the crook of his elbow. He set them down carefully. Candied almonds, maraschino cherries and chocolate sauce on low-fat vanilla bean for Bulma. Eight different flavours, topped with sprinkles and shattered toffee for Trunks, and a high-protein double-chocolate swirl, heaped with fresh fruit for himself.

“Wow, thanks dad!” Trunks exclaimed.

Vegeta said nothing, only handed his son a spoon with a solemn: “don’t spill anything on your mother’s living room floor.”

Bulma sat back and watched Vegeta and Trunks tear into the ice cream, spoons clattering. She savoured the moment, and dipped a dainty corner of her spoon into the confection; both, she decided, were perfectly sweet.


	2. Family of the Gods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beerus and Champa having a friendly night of games and good, clean family fun.

“Left arm: yellow.” Whis said serenely.

“Hey!” Champa shouted through Beerus’s armpit, “that’s three yellow in a row! Vados, is that bastard cheating?”

“Oh would you quit your griping?” Beerus growled. “Whis, give her the damn spinner.”

Whis handed Vados the spinner. She gave it a gentle flick and watched the arrow whirl.

“Right leg, yellow.”

“OH COME ON!” Champa bellowed.

Beerus and Champa wriggled, each trying to get into the new positon while simultaneously muscling the other off the Twister mat. After a few seconds they were hopelessly entangled and they went down in a heap.

“And that’s game!” Whis said, rising to his feet. “I declare this a draw.”

“What?” Beerus bellowed, “you’re taking HIS side?”

“You two clearly fell at the same time.” Vados said evenly.

“Why are we even playing this childish game?” Champa said, crossing his arms in a pout.

“If you recall,” Whis said, smiling softly, “the two of you argued and destroyed Hungry, Hungry Hippos.”


	3. The Son Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Son Family plays Creatures and Castles with their uncle Raditz.

“All right! This bad.” Raditz said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You guys are in trouble.”

Goku and Gohan leaned in, hanging on his every word.

“I thought the warlord was dead?” Goku asked, puzzled.

“While you were fighting, his bodyguard abandoned the distraction you two laid earlier. He’s on his way back this room now!”

“All right!” Goku said, “I’m a little worn out from the last battle, but I’m ready for round two!”

“Don’t get cocky! You’ve never encountered an enemy like this before.” Raditz continued, “Don’t take any wrong moves.”

Unconsciously, Goku and Gohan began to channel their Ki, the pulsing energy reacting to their uncertainty. Gohan was first to master himself, clearing his throat and calming his rising emotions.

“Raditz, I would like to make a Perception Check to see what I know about the Warlord’s Bodyguard!”

“Roll it. And I’ll give you a +2 bonus since you took the time to investigate his personal archives before the battle.”

“I want his sword!” Goten declared, “you said he had a cool sword!”

“Ah, indeed I did, young warrior!” Raditz said with a grin, “however, the warlord’s mighty blade is Size Category Large, which means you must pass a Strength Check to wield it!”

“Uh…” Goten stared at his character sheet, “so what do I add again?”

Raditz leaned across the table and began explaining the roll to Goten.

“Hey dad,” Gohan said, “how come mom isn’t playing?”

“Uh, Raditz said she isn’t allowed to play anymore.” Goku said, “something about rules-lawyering and power gaming?”

Gohan nodded.

“Yeah that sounds about right.” He replied.

“…and with a heave, the Warlord’s blade comes free of his clammy grip and you hold it high with pride! Now, add a +2 Greatsword with an increased Critical range to your inventory.”

Goten, tongue pinched between his teeth in concentration, scribbled furiously, checking the open Creatures and Castles equipment manual that lay open on the table.

“Now, you all hear the heavy footfalls of the Warlord’s body guard approaching the throne room.”

“Quick! We should lock the door!” Goten exclaimed.

“Good idea, Goten!” Gohan said, “we lock and barricade the doors.”

“Aw, we’re gonna fight him anyway!” Goku pouted, “let’s just let him in!”

“Dad!” Goten said, “you’ve only got 10 hit points left, and I’ve used up all my healing magic!”

“He’s right.” Gohan said, “tactically, we’re in a tight spot.”

Raditz’s phone buzzed and he snapped it open.

“Yo, go for Rad-Man.” He said. A pause, then, “oh, all right. Keep me posted!”

“Who was that, Raditz?” Gohan asked.

“Nappa.” Raditz explained, “said he’s gonna be late, something about an personal groomer malfunction. I didn’t press him for details.”

“Hello boys.” Chi-Chi said, coming down the stairs into the basement. “Just checking up on you.”

“Hi mom!” Gohan and Goten said together, making her grin.

She looked over the table.

“Oh, the Treasure of Warlord Thrull.” She nodded approvingly, “good module.”

“Look, Chi-Chi.” Raditz said, “I know we’ve had our disagreements in the past…”

“Raditz, I understand.” Chi-Chi said, “I know this game has way of bringing out my…competitive side.”

“But the guys are really in a tight spot here, and Nappa’s running late. Would you want to run his character for him until he arrives? They’re about to face the Warlord’s bodyguard and they’re all in bad shape.”

Chi-Chi cracked her knuckles and grinned savagely. She sat down at the table, and accepted the character sheet that Raditz passed to her. She studied it for a few moments before rolling her eyes.

“Hardly optimized, but it should suffice.” She said, looking around the table, “status report people!”

Goku, Gohan and Goten jumped.

“I need numbers! Spell slots available, hit points, let’s get a plan here! You wanna get clobbered by this Frost Giant? Because **I** don’t!”

Raditz smiled as his family scrambled to obey.

_She’s a truly terrifying woman when she wants to be,_ Raditz thought, _she would have made an excellent Saiyan._


	4. Krillin and Eighteen's House

“This is the end for you, little man.” Eighteen’s voice was low, her gaze cold as she faced Krillin across the table, “one more little itty-bitty neighbourhood and I’ll rule this half of town. You won’t be able to cross the street without paying up.”

“Oh?” Krillin fired back, “well I think you should take a look at who controls the railroads, and the utility companies…” Krillin let his retort hang, a look of smug satisfaction on his face.

“Hah.” Eighteen snorted, “your real estate holdings are a pathetic mish-mash of unimproved wastelands. You have no hotels built, you’re wasting your resources.”

“I like play the long game,” Krillin said with a wink.

He accepted the dice from her and rolled double sixes, moving the PIECE twelve spaces.

“Yep, it’s all part of my strategy.” He said confidently.

Eighteen took the dice and rolled, landing on the last unpurchased orange tile. She paid the bank and took the deed, adding it to the other she had.

“Now, one more of these and I’ll…” she trailed off.

Krillin, smirking, held the last orange property up between two fingers, winking at Eighteen.

“Looking for this?” He asked smugly.

“Damn.” She spat, “when did you get your filthy paws on that?”

“Second round. You were distracted, buying up Park Place. But now it looks like I’ve got exactly what you want.”

She crossed her arms and looked away, fuming. _Perhaps he had a strategy after all._

“All right…” she said slowly, “what do you want for it? I will give you double its listed price.”

“Oh, no no no.” Krillin said, waggling a finger, “I’m afraid that mere money doesn’t interest me. I’m looking for something more…substantial.”

He winked, and she rolled her eyes.

“Two weeks.” Krillin let the hammer drop, “you have to do the cooking AND laundry for two weeks.”

She scowled at him. She opened her mouth the reply when Krillin interrupted her.

“I wasn’t finished.” He said, raising an eyebrow.

“Well spit it out, I don’t have all night. I’ve got a real estate empire to build.”

“Two weeks of laundry and cooking, AND wearing the…” he cleared his throat, “outfit of my choice.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“You lech.” She said.

“That’s Monopoly.” He said with a shrug. “It’s a high stakes game.”

“Fine.” She said, smiling, “but let’s make this more interesting.”

“I’m all ears.” Krillin said, returning her grin.

When Tien and Yamcha came over the next night for their weekly poker game, Krillin answered the door wearing stiletto heels, fishnet stockings and a French maid outfit that ended at the very end of modesty.

“Hey guys, come on in.” Krillin said, waving them in.

“Krillin…?” Tien managed, staring.

“What are you wearing?” Yamcha asked, agape.

“It’s called playing the long game.” Krillin said with a wink.

He turned and led them inside.

_Gotta admit,_ Yamcha thought, _it makes his calves looks great._


	5. Tien and Chiatzu's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little miscommunication occurs between Tien and Yamcha regarding "Game Night."

Yajirobe let out a long, echoing belch and crushed the empty beer can against his forehead. He smacked his lips.

“Tastes like pepperoni.” He remarked, cracking open a fresh tallboy of _Papaya Island Lager_.

“How did I never realize you were cool?” Yamcha asked, finishing his own beer.

He tossed the can in a high arc, and pumped his fist as it clattered noisily into a recycling bin.

“Kobe!” He shouted.

“Dude.” Yajirobe said sternly, “too soon.”

They continued on, sipping beers and chatting. Each wore a long-sleeved hockey jersey and carried a two-four under their arm.

“It was kinda weird, wasn’t it?” Yamcha asked, a clear thought emerging through his beer-fogged mind.

“Hrm?” Yajirobe asked through a mouthful of pepperoni sticks.

“I didn’t think Tien watched sports.” Yamcha elaborated.

“Well he never used ta have a TV either.” Yajirobe said, “dude’s kinda weird.”

“Fair point.” Yamcha said.

Still uncertain, he checked his phone again, re-reading the text message he got from Tien, written in all caps.

“GAME NIGHT AT MY PLACE. FRIDAY NIGHT. 7 PM. FROM: TIEN." He read it aloud.

“Welp.” Yajirobe said, stumbling slightly, “it’s game night. The North City Reds are playing the Central City Demons, and I don’t wanna be late, c’mon!”

Yajirobe downed the last of his fourth beer, crushed the can and tucked the compacted aluminum disc into his pocket. Yamcha hustled after him as they scurried up the path to Tien’s house. Yajirobe rang the bell and Yamcha knocked.

Tien opened the door.

“GO DEMONS!” Yamcha and Yajirobe shouted in unison.

Tien blinked at them. He was wearing a fluffy green evening robe and holding a glass of wine. Behind him, Chiaotzu sat on the living room sofa, wrapped in a smaller, matching robe and clutching a steaming mug of hot cocoa, topped with enormous marshmallows.

“Uh…game night?” Yamcha offered, as Tien looked at them, his three eyes full of questions.

“Hell yeah!” Yajirobe belched, “get the game on, puck drops in five!”

“What are you talking about?” Tien asked slowly.

“Well what’re **you** talking about?” Yajirobe fired back, grabbing a fistful of his jersey, “Demons versus Reds, it’s the opening game of the semis.”

Tien’s face registered zero comprehension.

“I thought you said game night?” Yamcha asked, confused.

“I did.” Tien said, “on Fridays we play Scrabble.”


End file.
